


Shared Pasts and Impossible Futures

by 221bdisneystreet



Category: Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Drabble, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Infinite Eyerolls, Not Beta Read, Older Characters, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-30 16:51:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6432550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221bdisneystreet/pseuds/221bdisneystreet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two lovers joined by an unforgotten past. Reunited by an unforgiving present. Separated by an unattainable future.</p><p>It’s been said that love can conquer all. Even time itself. But at this very moment, they both knew the truth behind the lies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shared Pasts and Impossible Futures

**Author's Note:**

> I recently finished playing Professor Layton and the Unwound Future, so I decided to write out a quick Infinite Eyerolls drabble inspired by the game's ending (if you are familiar with the game, the parallels do get obvious at some points). This is also largely unedited, so I apologize if it doesn't come out as polished as my other fics. Nevertheless, I hope you all enjoy it!

_“All my life’s bliss from thy dear life was given--_

_All my life’s bliss is in the grave with thee.”_

“Remembrance” by Emily Bronte

 

* * *

 

It was an exaggeration to say that Wirt was not the same person as he was before, at least in the physical sense. Admittedly, the only major change was that he aged from fifteen to seventeen years old. The other changes, however, were more subtle. Sure, he was taller by a few extra inches and was not as scrawny, and his hair had gotten slightly more tousled. But other than that, he was not entirely different from his past self. Even now, he wore the same impromptu Halloween costume: blue cloak draped around his shoulders and red hat perched on his head. In his opinion, it was more accurate to claim that he experienced minor adjustments rather than sweeping transitions in his appearance.

But unlike with him, it was not an exaggeration to say that Beatrice looked exactly like she did the last time they met.

She still had the same crimson curls that, although neatly contained in a bun, blazed like an untamed fire under the streetlights lining the sidewalk. She still had those same freckles that speckled her youthful cheeks, flushed from the crisp autumn breeze that tickled her skin. She still had those same eyes that matched the sky-blue shades of her dress and gazed up rather than down at him. As they stood near the rusted cemetery gate, he almost felt like he was facing a lifelike statue of her, with every facet of her sixteen-year-old image meticulously sculpted and flawlessly mimicked.

Even after two years, Beatrice still hadn’t changed one bit.

And all Wirt could do was stare back into her eyes.

Yet they reflected not with her piercing, trademark sarcasm but with faint lamplight and solemn tenderness.

“So...” Beatrice sighed, drawing out the stillness between them for just a little longer.

It was coming.

They both dreaded this moment, even though they also knew that their fear was pointless in delaying or even thwarting what was to unfold. It happened two years ago on Halloween night.

“I guess this is it,” she murmured

_This is it..._

And now it would happen two years later on Halloween night.

“This is goodbye.”

_Goodbye…_

The inevitable farewell had arrived once again.

“I have to go back home. Back to my family...”

The sinking, uninviting feeling of deja vu settled in Wirt’s stomach. History was repeating itself, but the roles were switched. This time, he was not leaving her.

“Back to my world.”

She was leaving him.

“I’m sure you understand that...” Beatrice momentarily diverted her attention to her left. Wirt followed her gaze, his eyes locked onto the lone bench a few feet from them. Seated on the bench’s edge, Greg aimlessly swung his legs back and forth while he stared down at the scattered leaves bordering the pavement. With each kick in the air, the teapot on his head flashed in the golden illumination that washed over him. When Greg turned his head briefly to see his brother and friend, he waved. In spite of the depressing atmosphere, Wirt gave a small grin toward his younger brother, and Beatrice waved back, her lips twitching into a melancholy smile as well.

“You do understand. Don’t you, Wirt?”

He did understand, and he hated that he did.

“Beatrice…” His voice trailed off as they locked eyes with each other once more. Beatrice stepped closer and gently took both of his hands, her touch thawing away the cold tingling in his fingers.

“I’m sorry I can’t stay any longer,” she whispered and leaned in to rest her forehead against his chest. Wirt wrapped his arms tightly around her, quietly burying his face in her hair. Bathing in the warmth of his embrace, Beatrice relaxed and remained perfectly motionless, save for her rhythmic breathing.

If the world could stop spinning...

Beatrice lifted her head and, placing her hand on Wirt’s cheek, pressed her lips against his in a delicate kiss. Wirt closed his eyes, desperately savoring every precious and fleeting second that glided by.

If time could freeze right now, even for just that single blissful moment...

But Beatrice slowly backed away.

The world still moved.

She turned toward the graveyard.

Time still moved.

She took another step, her foot crunching on an idle leaf.

Everything still moved.

“Beatrice, wait!” Wirt exclaimed.

As if someone paused the finale of this inescapable tragedy, Beatrice stopped.

Even as the wind fluttered the hem of her dress and swayed the stray locks caressing her cheeks, she did not take another step forward.

The silence dragged on like the hushed interlude that follows when a conductor cues the orchestra to cease playing.

Beatrice turned around, her mouth still curved up in her wistful smile.

“You know, I remember on that night,” she quietly said, “I joked to you about listening to your insufferable poetry if we were ever able to be together.” Her voice quivered with gloom that her snark failed to mask. “I could never forget the dorky pout on your face. You looked so cute being offended like that.” She forced out a tiny giggle as she stared down and fiddled with her hands. “Heh, even when I told you I’d love you regardless, you still looked pretty insulted.”

Her dress rippled in the breeze like waves surging in the ocean.

“God, in that single night, we came up with so many plans for this imaginary future of ours…”

She raised her head, looking once more at the boy she could never be with.

“Do you remember, Wirt?”

Of course, he remembered. Every endearing word. Every teasing remark. Every heartfelt confession. Every comforting hug. Every loving kiss. Every grievous regret.

Every precise detail of that memorable but bittersweet night. He remembered it all.

His heart swelled with anguish and longing.

“I-I’ll miss you. I’ll miss our shared past,” Beatrice sniffled a little and wiped away her tears to no avail, “and our...impossible future.”

Wirt bit his lip and clenched his hands, and his eyes watered. He could keep it together, right? He struggled to prevent his grief from detonating--

“You can’t go!” He exploded.

Too late. He failed.

Stunned at the uncharacteristic outburst, Beatrice gasped.

“Beatrice, I love you! A-and…” Wirt lowered his head and squeezed his teary eyes shut. “I don’t want to say goodbye again!” He hiccuped between sobs. “I can’t! I won’t!”

He knew what he said would be useless in stopping the girl he loved from departing his life forever. Reality repeatedly slapped him in the face, forcing him to recognize that the life the two of them could have had together was implausible.

And he accepted that. He HAD to.

Yet paradoxically, he also denied the facts.

“Wirt…” Beatrice choked out his name. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but..can you be a pushover for me just this once?” She tearfully laughed at her own words. Wirt opened his eyes and gazed at her, his mouth gaping open in confusion.

“I’m sorry. It sounds stupid of me to say that to you. Maybe even selfish.” Beatrice rubbed her eyelids. “But just do what reality is telling you to do. It’ll make things less painful in the long run.”

Light sizzling echoed in the night as a nearby streetlight flickered, the bulb clinging onto the remainder of its light.  

“And I know you’ll be okay in the end,” Beatrice said, her tone laced with dejected reassurance. “I know you’ll stay strong. I mean, that’s how you and Greg came back here, right?”

Wirt pursed his lips together and silently agreed with her. Partly, at least. She was right about how he and his brother were able to go back, but did that truly mean he could make it through the pain this time?

“I-I have to go now, Wirt,” Beatrice stammered.

_No, no..._

“Keep on being a wonderful mistake of nature for me.”

_I’m not ready…_

“I love you.”

_Don’t leave yet..._

“Goodbye.”

Beatrice turned around.

And she left.

Right when her first footstep clicked in his ears, Wirt was ready to scream out her name again, run after her, hold her close to him for even a few more minutes…

But his legs did not budge, and nothing came out of his mouth. All he did was feebly reach out towards her and watch in sorrow as she entered the dim graveyard.

Deeper and deeper into the darkness, she continued walking.

Until the night consumed her, and Wirt could no longer discern her traversing past the countless tombstones. He let his arm fall back down in defeat.

“Beatrice?! Beatrice!”

Greg’s panicked cries rang as he scrambled off the bench and lunged past Wirt, who stared down at the dried leaves that littered the lamp-colored cement.

She had disappeared again. One last time.

Wirt heard his younger brother yelling out Beatrice’s name in the blackened cemetery. Again and again like a frantic plea.

But no one answered.

As Greg rushed out of the graveyard, the blinking streetlight closeby continued to buzz weakly.

“She’s gone,” he breathlessly panted, his voice cracking with distress.

_She’s gone…_

With a final and dull pop, the bulb died. The pavement darkened partially.

_She really is gone…_

“Wirt, did…” Greg lightly and sadly tugged at his older brother’s hand. “Did Beatrice go back home?”

Below the two brothers, the leaves crackled softly while the brisk wind effortlessly nudged them along the sidewalk.

“Y-yeah, Greg,” Wirt nodded, nearly whispering his answer. He lifted his head and looked up at the sky, at the few stars that twinkled, and at the full moon that gleamed brilliantly. His vision blurred even more as tears streaked his cheeks.

The world kept on turning…

“Yeah, she did.”

And time kept on ticking away.


End file.
